Landslide

by Jenn Cooksey

  As was going down the hill to visit my grandma on Saturday like I’d been planning. Cole invited himself to go with me on Sunday, though, and I was really looking forward to not only seeing my grandma but also spending some actual live, in person time with him, as he sounded to be in return. However, right at the last minute when he was getting in his truck to pick me up, he got an emergency call to fix an elderly woman’s busted water heater that I guess had already started flooding her basement while she was at church that morning. So, I went by myself and was reassured that everything in the nursing home was exactly as it was when I’d left. My grandma still has no clue who she is let alone who I am. Just the same, I braided her hair for her and stayed right up until they were about to serve dinner. Although by the time I was headed home, it had started snowing in the mountains again, really hard, and I ended up having to turn around part way up. I didn’t have chains on the Grenada’s tires and the highway patrol wouldn’t let anyone pass without them, and I couldn’t get enough reception to call Cole and have him come rescue me either.

  I was just sitting down at the bar of an Applebee’s when a pair of male hands suddenly covered my eyes from behind and Greg’s voice jovially asked, “Guess who?!” We ended up having a relaxed dinner together filled mostly with small talk, but there were definitely no sparks on my end, which was why I genuinely thanked him for offering to let me stay at his place for the night before I declined. He insisted though and promised there wouldn’t be any talk of wanting to get back together…he seemed to be kind of irritated but said he was simply being a decent guy and felt it foolish to waste money on a motel when he has a perfectly empty guest room. I was still hesitant because it really felt like a slippery slope and I didn’t want to mislead him in any way. He backed his promise up though by calling his new girlfriend, whom he hadn’t mentioned prior, and asked her if she would be okay with me staying the night under the circumstances. She was evidently of the same mindset as Greg was so I reluctantly agreed.

  I don’t know why I omitted where I slept when I talked to Cole once I finally got home on Monday, or even when we had lunch after taking care of getting chains on the Ford on Tuesday before my second interview. Maybe it was because he didn’t ask, or maybe it was because I was trying to avoid feeling slutty, even though nothing in the least happened. Or maybe, somewhere in the back of my mind, I just plain felt guilty. Which, if I think about it, feeling that way is totally unjustified.

  Cole and I are really only friends. Friends who are just more comfortable being in varying states of undress around one another than most friends typically are. And so what if I’ve been walking around with perma-grin all week? None of that means we’re an item, and it really doesn’t mean that either of us has to tell the other where we’ll be every second of the day and night if we’re not together. Suffice it to say, we don’t live in each other’s pocket, and we haven’t put a label on our…um, new relationship, for lack of a better description; because we haven’t defined what we’re doing. Like, at all. And, I don’t know what this means but, he hasn’t kissed me in public. We’ve played footsies under the table and held hands at the movies, but, no kissing.

  It’s almost like how we were after Holden died, except we’re not playing a public game of charades by pretending to be brother and sister, and I’m not a heartbroken basket case practically using her best friend who’s taken it upon himself to kiss the hurt away. We’re simply enjoying each other’s company and acting on the undeniable physical chemistry we both now recognize that we have together. Well, sort of acting on it. We kiss, and sometimes for so long that it would be more practical to find a place to sit or lie down while we do it so that our legs don’t get tired from standing, but that’s been it so far. However, it’s still kind of been a daily thing, because if you count FaceTime, we’ve actually managed to see each other every day since Wednesday of last week aside from Sunday when I was visiting my grandma.

  Whether it was being sickies together, meeting him for a quick donut and cup of coffee somewhere before he headed out for the day, or even him coming over to help me figure out what to wear for my interview, we’ve spent a lot of time together since I found out he isn’t actually gay. And even though I’m still fairly certain I wouldn’t have had any regrets about having a one-night stand with him that night, I’m kind of glad he stopped us. Doing so when he did may have initially pricked my pride a smidge, although that wound healed rapidly when he made it pretty clear that while he finds me more than worthy of having sex with, he thinks even more of me as a person. Plus, not jumping right into bed that first night makes for a little bit of a thrill in wondering if we’ll ever actually do it or not, and if we do, when, and all of the possibilities and details of how it could go down.

  And I’m sort of getting the impression he wants to but at the same time, for one reason or another, he doesn’t; when we were kissing on the porch after seeing a movie at the theater last night, I invited him inside and let him know he could stay if he wanted to. It took him a minute filled with some eye narrowing and side to side head rocking before he blew out a breath and told me he better not. Then he framed my face with both his hands and kissed me witless. I think I stood there in a daze for like three minutes until the wind picked up and sent a flock of downy snowflakes and bone chilling goose bumps ice-skating over my whole body.

  In any event, I’m just honestly loving being a part of each other’s lives again. I’ve been coming to realize that I’ve missed him so unbelievably much. I wasn’t even aware of just how much I did until we were brought back together again. That being the case, the first thing I do after ending the call with human resources at the hospital is dial Cole…

  36

  “Simple Man”

  —Erica—

  “I got the job!” I squeal before Cole even gets a word of hello out. “That’s fantastic, sweetheart, I told you that you would. When do you start?”

  “Not until the first of the year.” I think about what that means to my bank account. Although my rent and bills are paid through December, I won’t have any money coming in for a while longer and I’ll more than likely need to dip into my grandmother’s funds once more, and I really hate the idea of doing that. It can’t really be helped though, so I’ll just add it in to the total of what I’m already planning on reimbursing her. “Let’s go out and celebrate! My treat.”

  “Oh, I’d love to, sugar, but I can’t go out tonight…my team dropped three places last week and I think if I miss another night of league, my teammates will form a lynch mob with pitchforks and torches,” he says semi-seriously yet chuckling too, “But you can come with me if you want and I can buy you a celebratory basket of mozzarella sticks or cheese fries, or we can go all-out and share a plate of carne asada nachos…they’re huge and freaking delicious. Seriously.”

  “I could eat some nachos…”

  Once we’re at the bowling alley, it starts sinking in that Cole has really settled into living a rather tame life. That’s not to say that I find his lifestyle disappointing in any way whatsoever; it really just doesn’t fit with what I used to picture how he’d turn out is all. When we were all in high school, Cole and Holden both were exceptionally comfortable being stars; they were the kind of guys who were the center of everyone’s attention and it seemed innate. Holden was actively trying to pursue a dream of being a sports icon and Cole was the lynchpin of a social posse that had at minimum twenty to twenty-five people of both genders in it at any given time. He was gregarious, animated, and you’d practically never find him being idle, so I used to see a future Cole as someone who’d be happiest being in the spotlight and living it up with every opportunity presented to him. And if an opportunity didn’t present itself, he would be the kind of person to create one on his own.

  He’s not like that even a little bit now. He seems to know everyone here at the bowling alley and most people greet him by name, but it’s almost as if he makes a somewhat concerted effort to keep his head down and
blend into the crowd, rather than trying to stand out so that he’s noticed. He isn’t an incorrigible flirt anymore either. He’s not timid by any means, but he keeps his hands and lips to himself and is quietly polite. I also pick up on the fact that when he speaks to most women, he does still tend to use one of his standard terms of endearment instead of their name, like he does with me, but I think that’s a habit born of doing it for almost his entire life, and it’s clear he’s not intending to show any interest or disrespect by how his endearments sound when they slip out.

  I do find it slightly hilarious however when one of Cole’s teammates turns out to be Ryan, one of the guys I met at the bar the night Cole and I were first reunited, and he greets me with a hug that feels to last a second or two longer than what’s justified while saying, “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes… Nice to see you again, beautiful.”

  Cole’s response is to pull a distinctly perturbed frown and gruffly question, “Beautiful?”

  Ryan’s eyes go back and forth between Cole and me, and then coming to some kind of decision, he shrugs. “Just stating a fact, Hastings. The girl has it goin’ on.”

  “Thanks,” I accept Ryan’s compliment with a smile, receiving a wink in return that I leave unacknowledged. Although turning to a now almost surly looking Cole, I lightly backhand him in the shoulder and hiss, “What is wrong with you? You call me and every other female you’ve ever spoken to beautiful and sugar and all kinds of crap like that.”

  His tone and expression now shy of being petulant, he replies, “Yeah, I know. But that’s my thing.” I shake my head and roll my eyes at him; however, just as I’m about to sit down again, Cole nudges me in the arm with his elbow and leans down to conspiratorially whisper, “Just so you know, he’s been divorced twice. Cheated on the first one with the second one. The third one wouldn’t marry him or he’d be thrice divorced.”

  Suppressing a chortle, I give him a look of mock exasperation. “Go bowl, you over-protective doofus.”

  Just then, Jerry, another one of the guys from the bar, throws himself down in a seat across from me, huffing out a huge breath and pouring himself a mug of beer from the pitcher on the counter next to him. “Sorry I’m late, guys, and man, am I glad to get outta the house.”

  The fourth member of Cole’s team, Joel, nods while sipping his beer. “Yeah, you look wiped, buddy, what’s goin’ on?”

  “Oh, I had to do the Mr. Mom thing all day while Marcy spent most of her time in bed or tossing her cookies.”

  “Mm, flu’s kept half the kids in my classroom home this week,” Joel mumbles around a mouthful of pizza now.

  “It’s not just goin’ around the schools. Erica and I both had it last week…why I wasn’t here Thursday.”

  I nod. “Yeah, and it sucked. We were both down for almost three days. Hope your wife’s flu bug doesn’t last that long.”

  “Yeah, I appreciate the good thoughts there, Erica, but I’m pretty sure this bug is the nine month kind.”

  All three of his teammates swing their heads to stare at him, but it’s Ryan who questions, “Seriously? That’ll be number five, Jer! Ever hear of birth control?”

  “Yeah, Ry, I’ve heard of it. And I’m gonna end up a rich man, ‘cause when Marcy finds out she’s preggo again, she’s gonna murder the doctor who clipped me and said we were good to go.”

  “When did you get snipped?” Cole asks.

  “Few months ago. You know that…you took Roxy for us for the weekend,” Jerry reminds Cole with his brows raised in a knowing manner, like he just explained everything.

  “What in the hell are you talking about? I mean I remember, but what does your dog have to do with getting a vasectomy?”

  “Oh my God, I know for a fact you’ve experienced what a crazy-intense ball sniffer she is!”

  A small sympathetic wince escapes me followed by a snicker when Cole fidgets in his seat. “Yeah, that was awkward. And, fuckin’ frightening.”

  “Right? And I love my dog, but she even gets growly with Jenna when she tries to take a tennis ball from her just so that she can throw it for the damned beast. So, I’ll be goddamned if I was gonna let a one hundred-thirty pound mastiff anywhere near my jewels right after a procedure like that. No way. Not that it worked. And I’m not doin’ it again. Marcy can get her tubes tied this time.”

  “Wait, if she doesn’t know she’s pregnant yet, then how do you? Ever think she might just have the flu like everyone else?”

  “Well,” Jerry huffs and bends to put his bowling shoes on, “I always know before she does for one thing because for about the first two weeks, I can’t keep her off me, but after that, she won’t let me get within twenty feet of her until eight weeks minimum after the baby is born. I got laid every day for the last week and a half, sometimes twice, and suddenly this week, I’m a pariah in my own damned house.”

  The guys start snorting and laughing and I try desperately to not smile.

  “You guys think it’s funny or that I’m joking? I’m being serious here! I can’t even look in the general direction of my own wife’s tits when she’s pregnant without her throwing whatever she has in her hands at me, and if she don’t got nothin’ in her hands, she’ll take her goddamned shoe off and throw it at me. No lie.”

  Cole barks out a laugh and points at Jerry. “Oh shit! Was that what was goin’ on at that barbecue of Sean’s a couple years ago when you had to tell her not to throw your son?”

  “See?” Jerry flings his hand up in Cole’s direction, “I have a witness.”

  “Oh my God…that was the funniest damned thing. Swear to God, you guys, Marcy is talking to me and some woman, I can’t even remember who it was, and she’s got Tyler on her hip when Jerry comes walking up to rescue me, and he literally says to Marcy, ‘Don’t you throw that baby at me,’ and she doesn’t, but he and I turn to leave before the women had me married to whoever they were tryin—”

  “Charlotte Mitchell. It was like days before her botched boob job,” Jerry supplies.

  “Oh yeah…what a train wreck she turned out to be,” Cole nods, as do the rest of the guys, and then he continues as he wipes down his bowling ball, “Like I was saying though, Marcy doesn’t throw Ty, but just as Jerry and I start walking away, she pelts him in the back of the head with her flip-flop. I’m tellin’ you, I’ve had some scary-ass projectiles hurled my way before, but I’ll never forget that flip-flop…it had giant rhinestone flowers on it and they were this blinding bright and truly awful fuchsia pink color, and the part that to this day I still have nightmares about is the teeny green frog with it’s tongue sticking out that was right smack-dab in the center of the flower cluster.”

  Jerry jokingly rubs the back of his head. “Yep, that pair and I share some fond memories. She wore those with Alec too.”

  “Dude, you didn’t even turn around or acknowledge it…you just kept going. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but I didn’t wanna ask either of you because I was afraid she’d hit me with the other one!”

  “Nah, she wouldn’t throw anything at you. I mean unless you were the one who knocked her up. She only takes her hatred of being pregnant out on the sperm donor…it’s how I know for sure that I’m the father of all my kids.”

  “Charlotte almost looks good now…got her boobs fixed and her chin,” Joel comments, rejoining the conversation after bowling a spare, not realizing or maybe simply not caring that we’ve well moved past Charlotte Mitchell.

  “Huh. ‘Bout time,” Ryan says, “What about her hair? She stop pretending to be a real ginger yet?”

  “She is a real ginger,” Cole throws out as he steps onto the boards to make his initial approach, and everyone, including me, looks at him with interest.

  He notices, halts dead in his tracks, and then starts defensively gesturing with the sixteen-pound bowling ball that he’s easily holding in one hand. I’m trying to not laugh because his ball also happens to be sporting an image within it of a super creepy skeleton soldier dude hold
ing several sticks of dynamite bound together with the words ‘Nerves of Steel’ underneath it, and here Cole is, all in a twitter because the spotlight is shining straight into his eyes and he’s the one who turned it on to the Power Ranger setting in the first place simply by opening his mouth.

  “Oh, now wait a goddamned minute. I was not the only one at that New Year’s party. She showed up coked out of her mind and wearing what had to be a headband instead of a skirt. There was no escaping knowing she wasn’t wearing any knickers with that outfit to begin with, but then she went ahead and fell across the lap of Elizabeth Page’s fifteen-year-old nephew. Even Reverend Pasley now knows that Charlotte Mitchell’s upstairs matches what’s downstairs, so every one of you can quit looking at me like I ever paid a visit there on my own. Mm-mm. Nope.”

  “Nerves of steel, huh?” I tease as he turns back around to bowl.

  He throws me a smirk over his shoulder. “You shoosh.”

  I grin and chuckle under my breath, but when he comes back from bowling a strike and stretches out in the seat next to me, placing his hands behind his head with the most cocky of expressions on his face, I wave my finger at him indicating his general appearance of arrogance and ask, “What’s this about?”

  His eyes slide to the side and his mouth forms a self-satisfied half-grin when he whispers, “Oh, I’m just debating whether I wanna announce what your real hair color is…”

  My mouth falls open. Then gathering myself enough to whack him in the bicep repeatedly while he laughs at me, I scoff, “I look like a ghost without putting color in my hair, you jerk, and besides, I barely need lowlights now.”